"Now we can't have that now can we?" Ian grinned that same evil grin and delivered a round house kick to her face. "Her wounds are fatal, but I have seen weaker survive much worse". He took a moment to gather his wits and pick up her rune blades. He found a recently killed war stead and reanimated it. "This should last long enough to get her over to him." Ian licked the blood of his glove,"could use a little heating up I suppose."

That was when he saw the mage looking over at him. It appeared as though neither of them had the energy to fight the other so Ian shouted "You so much as raise a finger at me Mage I will take her head off." Ian put a hand on his blade to show he was not to be tempted, killing her or taking her alive either way his mission was accomplished.

((I say the more the merrier, however this battle is finally coming to an end. There is another large scale conflict coming up and I think it would be a good time to introduce your character. That is my opinion at least :P))

Grimgor fell to one knee. "Hell!.. What?!" he mumbled as the shadow energies hit him in the face. He was so close! He could feel the resistance of dark energies against the tip of his piercing dagger which was filled with holy light. But Lethean made a last second save, that would both hurt the priest and heal himself. "Cleverrr.." he murmured as he rose up. His berserk raised to another level and feeling cheated in battle further fueled his bloodlust. But what drove him mad was not the unexpected life stealing strike of his foe, it was that he turned his back to him and moved forward towards the forsaken, simply ignoring him.

That was it. He totally lost himself to his temper, his body started burning and emaneting holy energies. His beard floated away with his pony tail. His eyes went red, blazing with fury. It was a big mistake for Lethean to go after them all alone, and he was careless about what could happen too. Grimgor let out a ferocious roar as he started floating in the air.

By the time Lethean reached Oliver, he raised his two handed sword to finish him off. Realising this, Grimgor howled and raised his hand, shaped a bolt of holy energy that travelled as fast as light towards his foe. That was a shackling spell, but its aim was not to tie Lethean up: That would be in vain as he would simply break the shackles easily in a second. But he aimed for the deadly runeblade, which was about to land on Oliver. Shaped by his will, shackles grabbed the blade and prevented Lethean from landing the blow. "Must be shocked." he thought and giggled. He raised his hand as stormwind farmers did when they caught a bull with a lasso and tightened his grip on the shackling line of light. In fury, Lethean cursed himself for ignoring the priest and wanted to quickly finish with him. He tightly gripped his blade and pulled it forward, flinging the priest towards himself. He immediately turned his blade in his hand and raised, aiming through the space under his right arm, where flung priest would land in a mere second. He chuckled cruelly as he was certain of Grimgor's fate.

That was what Grimgor expected exactly. He flied towards the deadly enemy without fear or doubt. Shackle dispersed in the air as it was no longer needed. What he needed at that moment was a focused mind, but for a second he failed to focus because of the alcohol. He blinked for a second and imagined about his family, friends back in Stormwind, the King, his brothers at the chamber, and the image of falling Ian traversed in a moment. He opened his eyes back and landed right behind Lethean, exactly where he swung him to, and exactly where he planned to be. Lethean left out an evil laughter and plunged his blade into Grimgor's chest, impaling him through.

His evil laughter got interrupted as he could not feel the life energy of the young brother flowing through his rune blade. Something was amiss. And he shook in shock and pain as Grimgor stabbed him right where Oliver hit him earlier. Now Grimgor was cackling manically as he plunged the blade deeper into his spine. Holy energies emaneting from the lightforged blessed blade burned his insides, inflicting excruciating agony. He started to tremble as a single thought crossed his mind: "How?". He tried to pull back his blade with no avail, it was feeling like stuck in the mud.

And that was the case. Grimgor knew that it was not possible to confront without getting a blow from Lethean, and even a slight scratch meant disease and death. Lethean allways built his battle strategy around wounding or impaling his enemies. Grimgor, in his blood haze, decided to make a suicidal attack that would fit in Lethean's strategy. But there was only one way to avoid certain death at such a situation: Turning into clay. He activated his ancestral heraldry as soon as he landed, that made Lethean's blade totally unfunctional. He was impaled at a serious location but his body was unharmable at that moment. He was also immune to the diseases blade carried.

Grimgor grinned and turned the blade inside Lethean, inflicting even more terrible pain upon him. "Cursed heathen!" he mumbled, "Think go off?! Think over bend?! Let go?!" he added. Then he started murmuring the chant as he channeled huge amounts of holy light into the unholy body: "Togh i walksh in Kingdom of Dead, i fearsh noshing! 'Cos i am of earth, and shoil dead were to buried.. In whish they be dead and sted!" after the last sentence which he yelled in joy, he unfurled a penancing bolt of light, which shook Lethean even more, sent him screaming, and much to Grimgor's surprise, Lethean crumbled upon him backwards. "What hell! Curshed heathen! Why you fumb faded cropey!" he murmured while trying to get off the unconcious body upon him. He managed to release his body partially, and cried for help from Aldean "Human! Halp!" and meanwhile removed the sword that was stuck in him before turning to normal.

Aldean arose from the ground and responded to Gringor's cry. He rose his hammers and charged towards Lethean. That dagger would be the perfect kill spot. As he swings he keeps the dagger in sight, hoping to lodge it deeper into the death knight's wretched form.

"So here is the fighting...and they have started without me?" He smiled as he watched the battle raging from a distance from his spyglass. "Interesting, some weak skeletons remain but also a lot more powerful Scourge wandering. And what i see more...a priest, a mage and more fighting them." He put his spyglass away. "Alright then, time to see what i can do."

He packed his gear: his two daggers and of course his favorite combination: the Twin Rippers. He grabbed his fist weapons. While he equips his right one, he watched to his glove, knowing of his mark on his hand.

"Madeline, this one is for you..." And as swift as a rogue, he ran to Andorhal and vanished in the shadows.

(( Darced, my character's name is Grimgor, not Gringor I'm not a mexican bandit dammit And the forsaken is Oliver Ogleton, forsaken alchemist, character of dangelo37 who joined us a short time ago. Also Bladerusher, welcome! ))

((Thanks, and sorry I didn't mean to imply that Grimgor was Mexican. I was not aware that being such was an insult or that you were a racist. Nah I'm just kidding lol, sorry about that. I'll get his name right.
Welcome Bladerusher! I guess we can assume you were an adventurer who has been the scourge solo til now. No problem, I hope you enjoy the third installment of War of the Greys. By the way, we're no longer in Andorhal, feel free to change your post that you simply join us from the woods. That way you'll join quick and easy. If not, meet us at Tyr's Hand, we'll be arriving there soon.))

Lethean stagged as Grimgor plunged his dagger into the same wound the Forsaken had made earlier. The death knight roared in agony, turning to retaliate. Unfortunately, Grimgor had turned his skin to stone - a natural ability all dwarves possessed, and one that Lethean loathed - and snarled as Shadowfrost clanged off rock-hard flesh.
Grimgor's bolt of energy stunned him momentarily, and he collapsed backwards, dizzy with shock and pain. How is it they've weakened me so?! he thought, his body ablaze with the Light's fury. It felt as if fire was crackling over his cold, dead skin, and he cried out in pain, shovng himself to his feet, gripping Shadowfrost tightly. He lifted his head with great effort, the fierce, azure blaze in his eyes dying down, and saw Aldean charging towards him, hammers raised, eyes locked on the dagger stuck in the sin'dorei's back. He drew a breath and cried, "You fool! You really thought me defeated so easily? Naive human!" Lethean turned to Grimgor's fallen form and trapped him with the same spell he'd used earlier on Neyira and Darren. He turned to Aldean then, Shadowfrost raised in a defensive position. Despite his confident words, his wounds were preventing him from truly retaliating with any attack of any sort. I need someone who won't be able to resist my magic . . . that's the only way I can drain their life force.

Darren stood, paralyzed, his gaze locked on Ian and Neyira's unconscious, bleeding form. "You so much as raise a finger at me mage, I will take her head off," the death knight called to him, reanimating a fallen war steed and tying Neyira's form down on to the saddle. No! He screamed mentally, knowng full-well what Lethean would do to her once he had hold of her. He knew his next move might risk the kaldorei's life, but he had no choice.Comrades in arms, night elf. Instead of raising his hands to cast a spell, he let them drop to his sides, palms open, fingers released of their tension. He reached out to the two minds that stood before him, shutting out everything else. When he tried to enter Ian's mind, the warrior-turned-death-knight's mind was shut tight, closed off by huge, stalwart barriers. The mage prodded for a moment, withdrawing swiftly when he touched the evil there. Little less than an hour ago he was an ally and a brave warrior, Darren thought. How did Lethean manage what he did?
Dispersing these thoughts, Darren then touched Neyira's mind. The unconscious kaldorei was physically wounded and dormant, but her mind was wide-awake. At first she recoiled, closing herself off to him. Pushing deeper in to her mind, Darren sent a thought to her. Worry not, night elf. All will clear itself from the fog if you let me in.Darren? she asked. I can feel . . . everything that is happening around me. Ian's taking me to Lethean, isn't he?He is, Darren confirmed. But I may be able to prevent it, if you allow me to proceed with my plan.
Her thoughts turned suspicious. Why would you need my permission? Why contact me like this? He felt her suddenly grow angry. Why not do something, instead of wasting your time speaking to me?Because, my plan involves draining off your energy . . . or rather, what's left of it. He paused, feeling her mind withdraw slightly as she fought back the agony that had begun to crawl deeper within her. Doggedly, he continued. I will take what I have to, but no more, and no less. It's the only way I can stop Ian; I'm positive I need not remind you of what will happen if I do not.
Neyira hesitated before answering. Very well, human. Do what you must. But hurry!
Darren felt her mind open completely, and felt the same pain she was feeling despite her current state. Death knight magic - seems it hurts their own kind more than us. He ignored this, delving deeper. He felt the dark, unholy energy keeping her alive, and felt his confidence with his plan shake. I didn't know . . . that isn't true. I should have known. I should have anticipated this. Of course she isn't being kept alive by a living pulse; she's dead. She was brought back to life by unholy magics, and that is what is keeping her alive now. His hesitation did not go unnoticed, and Neyira prodded his mind.If I were you, I'd move a little quicker, mage! she snapped, impatience radiating from her like a forest fire. Darren felt it reach him, and the forest fire turned into a full inferno.It's this, or live the rest of my damned life knowing that I've put her in a situation worse than her death and resurrection! He grasped the dark forces within her and began draining them, feeling the strain on her increase substationally. The kaldorei's will was strong, though, and she held on tightly. More, she gasped. Take what you need. I'll manage.
Darren heard this, but stopped when he felt himself efficiently energized. Withdrawing from her mind, he was jolted back to the present, Ian staring at him oddly. As soon as the death knight saw him jerk, he narrowed his eyes, hands tightening on the hilt of his katana.
Darren grinned, feeling the dark energies course through his body, and his eyes flashed. A visit to a priest - perhaps Grimgor - will be in order after this, I think. He summoned every bit of magic within him, and azure fire crackled around his body with a fierceness unseen before. Small purple, glowing orbs floated around him, and there seemed to be a miniature snowstorm raging through the air around him.
His eyes flared brightly as he locked gazes with Ian. The death knight looked like he was going to strike Neyira's unconscious form, but Darren merely smirked. "You go for it," he called, his voice echoing from the massive amounts of magic flowing through his veins. His blood fired, and the young wizard had never felt so alive. Yes. A visit to a priest will definitely be required, the logical side of him said quietly. This is not what you need.
Darren shrugged to himself mentally. So be it. But for now, I will use this limited power to save an ally. He held gazes with Ian. "See how far you go."

As he sneaked through Andorhal, he saw two skeletons wandering about almost blewing his cover. He charged with both his fist weapons to the front, scrambling the weak bones to pieces and vanishes in the shadows. "What's happening there..." He saw a glimp of a mage in front of him struggling. "Time to get some Zack action." and Zack, the rogue, sprinted into the vray.

(( if anyone need any assistence, I can help. Could use it to enter the fray ))

((Sorry Dacred I kind of jumped in during your break. My character is the Forsaken Alchemist [link in sig] who is currently hiding in a tree from Lethean. Once we depart this damned forest I'll formally introduce him =P ))

After the Dark dagger had impaled Lethean in his back, the curious dwarf went berserk. From his point of view, Oliver could not see or hear everything that happened after he hit his mark. What he did see was the dwarf run madly at the death knight and get a clean shot into the same wound he had just made moments ago. Lethan stumbled back and roared in pain, but Oliver noticed something that he assumed the dwarf had missed.

The Rune Weapon seemed to almost resist injuring it's master. When the dagger had landed, the force of the blow dealt considerable damage no doubt; but the bleeding that followed was almost non-existent. Oliver assumed that the death knight would nearly keel over with a blade in his back, but Lethean quickly removed it and continued his assault. BUT... when the crazed dwarf punctured Lethean with his blessed blade something happened. The dark energies that emanated from the wound began altering themselves. In Lethean's wound there was a swirling of energy. Light and dark powers battled for supremacy over the wounded death knight. After a few short moments the powers began to mix instead of separate. What in the dark lady's name... Oliver was perplexed. It was hard to distinguish from this distance, but with his unique vantage point he knew it to be true. It looked as though Lethean hadn't noticed yet and Oliver knew that when he did, the death knight's rage would go far beyond his breaking point.

It seemed that the dwarf was getting some kind of pleasure from this when he saw a human running towards the group, Hammers drawn looking for a battle. I have to get out of here. This human will think I'm with them. And I like my head where it currently is. Oliver stifled a giggle at the dark humor and began to retreat further into the forest. He has his dagger back and now there is a warrior coming. I can slink off without them noticing... Oliver began running when he was almost immediately stopped by a small death knight. The creature was a dwarf, but there was something particular about this dwarf. Something almost.... familiar.

The dwarf was a burly man with strong arms and a determined posture. Oliver would've noticed the pale skin if the dwarf were still alive but it wasn't until he removed his faceplate that Oliver came to his realization... the dwarf's eyes. They weren't a straight cold blue that most death knights acquired after turning. Theses flickered between blue and orange and that was when Oliver lost it. He knew the dwarf to be a Dark Iron and he went berserk. He quickly fumbled in his pouch for any vials he could grasp and downed three of them at once. His body began to reject the sudden burst of different energies but he was determined. Oliver grasped his leather pouch and it began to glow a bright blue. The power from the Alchemist's Stone helped stabilize his vitals.

Oliver had unwittingly consumed his last Earthskin Potion, a Shadow Protection Potion, and a Giant Growth Potion. He knew that the side-effects of different potions could be deadly but he vowed long ago to kill any and all Dark Iron dwarves he came across. His body mutated in an unfamiliar way. His right grew 4 times its normal size and muscle came from nowhere. His legs became hard as stone while his whole body emanated a with energies warding the darkness around him. "SCUM OF THE EARTH!! YOU WILL FEEL PAIN LIKE NEVER BEFORE!!!!!"

The stunned dwarf almost ran in terror of the Forsaken who had just transformed into a monster. But he knew that Lethean would do much worse if he fled and instead ran in with his runed axe raised high...

Ian felt a tug at his mind, "What is he doing..." He had half the mind to cut the night elf at that moment. What he saw next caught him off guard, as the mage erupted in power. On the other hand he felt what little life force Neyira draining. "I might not have to kill her...He will do it for me." Ian let lose the grip on his sword, and stepped closer to Neyira, putting her in range of whatever spell he could conjure at him. He had no reason to kill her and with enough influence she could make a great ally in all of this. Ian had no love for the undead by any means, somewhat of a double standard you could say, but he was loyal to the one that turned him and wanted to deliver his "gift" in one piece. "Lets hope he doesn't blow us both up dear." He whispered in Neyira's ear.

"Watch that mage, you dabble in the darkness for to long you may just start liking it, and let me tell you death is glorious!" Ian brushed the hair out of the night elves' face. "See the thing if you were to blow me to pieces, using the very same necromancy and hate that binds me to the world of the living I welcome it. Because honestly I grow tired and wish to be on my way now. Who knew death could be so tiresome?" Ian kept walking towards Lethean at a slow pace. If the mage was going to try something it would only take him a split second to get behind his undead steed and pull Neyira over with him, to safety.

He wasn't entirely sure about what exactly he was going to do, but he had a few ideas; crazy, although, but still ideas.
Suddenly, the young mage blinked, realizing they were in the Plaguelands now, once a lively part of Lordaeron.

Darren watched, flaring eyes narrowed as Ian continued his slow, arrogant pace towards Lethean.
"One more step death knight, and things begin to get unpleasant."
He reached out to Neyira's almost-dormant mind, and prodded it once more. I'm about to completely annihilate this guy. Think you can protect yourself, somehow, sufficiently enough to stay too much damage?
Neyira hesitated. The energy you drained may have prevented that from being an option. I should have considered that. She paused, and he could feel her thoughts churning. No; you'll have to risk it. My armor is enchanted to stay magical abilities to a certain degree, although those enchantments have been worn much today. Still . . . it might work.
Darren stood there for a second, magical energies crackling around him. Are you sure?
Neyira uttered a short, harsh laugh that speared his thoughts. Quite. Plus, it's either this, or he takes me to Leth. And if he does that, you may as well hand yourself to him as well. But don't forget the platter.
Darren nodded, then berated himself for the action, realizing late that Neyira was, of course, still unconscious, and her mind was a jumble of thoughts, not a pair of eyes. He cut off the link between them and raised his arms, magic flowing through his veins. He had four spells on his tongue, all of them fully capable of completely obliterating anything in their path. Darren had no idea what would happen if he combined them, nor did he care much right now.As long as it kills Ian, I'm fine with it. Five fully-charged arcane missiles sprang from his palm and hovered in front of him, pulsing with dark purple energy. From his fingers shot streaks of bright lightning, which enveloped the missiles. The missiles absorbed his second spell as if they were sponges dropped in water, soaking up the energy and adding it to their own.
His left hand reached out, and both frostbolts and fireballs were conjured in mid-air. These he mixed together, creating three powerful frostfire bolts. He transferred some of the electrical energy from the missiles, and added them to the frostfire bolts. Clouds seemed to appear above Ian and Neyira, ightning crackling through them and snow beginning to fall.An odd sight to see, in a place such as this. The ground beneath the pair began to glow red and turn hot, hinting to yet another powerful spell that had yet to spring to life.
Last but not least, Darren summoned more frost magic, encasing Ian in ice from the waist down. He used what was left of his energy to summon a weak ward around Neyira, before releasing all of his charged spells.
Little did he know that he'd left numerous things out . . . chief among them being that Ian was a death knight, and frost magic had little effect on such dark, unholy warriors . . .

Ian saw this coming, He saw that Darren had a fire, an azure fire in his eyes. He quickly broke the ice encasing his legs, he was not about to be done in with his own style of work. He took one of the frostfire bolts square to the chest as he reached for Neyira. The second one missed its intended target and the third clipped Neyira. The ward was shattered. He pushed her behind the undead horse and watched the lightning tear the horse to shreds. He saw the ward had broken, and felt the ground heating up beneath him. He knew Neyira wouldn't survive the fell brunt of it, his power was out of control at this point. He rolled her on top of him and took the blunt of the flamestrike.

"ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH", Ian screamed in agony, something he would thought that would go away in death but the flames tore at every ounce of his being. He was laying face up at this point with Neyira laying on top of him, in worse condition than before. "You better not be dead, kaeldori. I have suffered far to much to deliver you alive." He spoke in her ear.

"Are you deft Mage!?", He spewed etheral blood from his mouth. "You are mad with darkness! I don't know why I saved this one but your vengeance nearly cost her...her second life." Ian was drained, fighting slipping into unconscious. "Why didn't you just let her die you idiot", He thought to himself.

Darren didn't even notice the brunt of his spells strike Neyira; what he did notice was that Ian had taken a few hits, but . . . Am I going mad? he thought, lowering his arms and letting the magic slowly die away. . . . Or is he trying to keep Neyira alive?Is he dead, human? Neyira's thought swam through his mind, her consciousness touching his. Have you slain the enemy?No . . . he survived, I think. Darren reached out with his mind, touching Ian's still-blazing mind, though he could feel the death knight's pain. What he was going to do next, he was clueless to.

Neyira snapped awake in an instant, the burning agony blazing over her body again and again. She cried out in pain, realizing she was laying on top of Ian, the human death knight snarling to himself over Darren's stupidity. The kaldorei shoved herself to her feet, through sheer will forcing the pain to the back of her mind. Her azure eyes flared brightly and she growled softly. She turned and saw Ian lying there, fighting fiercely to stay awake. His eyes widened as he beheld her, and Neyira felt an evil smirk spread along her cold, pale violet lips.
"Well, well well," she murmured, narrowing her eyes but holding her smirk. She could feel her connection with her twin runeblades, and felt it grow extremely weak. He must have them somewhere . . . even if they were with the horse when it was slain, they wouldn't have been destroyed. They're crafted to resist such pitiful methods of attack. She didn't care; she had her target, helpless and at her mercy.What mercy . . . ? she thought, her smirk widening. She knelt beside Ian, still weak but most definitely stronger than he at the moment. She could feel Darren's gaze at her back, but paid it no heed.
"My my, how the tables have turned, hmm?" she said. Her eyes flickered to Ian's sword, laying beside him. She hesitated, but grasped the hilt and lifted it slowly, showing him the blade. His eyes followed it as she placed the blade against his throat. "You're right; you should have slain me when you had the chance."

"Heh, kill me if you must, it is only fair I mean your mage almost tore you a sundered but I am still the bad guy here." Ian felt the blade pushed against his throat. "I saved you...chose not to believe it if you must but just know at the end of the day, your mage almost burnt you to a crisp. I don't know why I did it either..." Ian saw the hate in the kaeldori's eyes. "I may be the enemy now but..."Ian spat a great deal of blood "You have that blade pushed to my neck not because your mage could control his powers but because I chose to take the flame strike for you". Ian tried to summon some amount of strength but failed, his freshly turned body had met its limits. Ian locked eyes with Neyira and spoke to whatever soul she had left,"Before you do anything rash, remember I saved you...and that...I hate the Scourge as much as you..." Ian started to fade to the darkness.

The Dark Iron death knight raised his axe at the now-transformed Oliver but with hesitation. Oliver had changed into a hideous Undead being made of stone and with a grotesquely large right arm. When the blow connected it did little more than scratch him and further fueled Oliver's anger. He grabbed the dwarf's wrist and threw him against a tree trunk. "I know YOU didn't end my previous life, but I'm sure you've had your turn at ending more than your fair share. Taste my wrath!" The dwarf was winded and knocked nearly unconscious with only a single blow. He attempted to retreat but Oliver was not taking prisoners...

Oliver's started seeing in tunnel vision. Nothing else mattered in the world. Flashbacks of the time he spent in Blackrock Mountain filled his memory. Torture... starvation... interrogation... and the pure delight it granted those bastard dwarves. Now it was their turn to feel it... feel it all. Oliver slammed his enormous fist into the dwarf's stomach hard enough he made a hole through the armor and that penetrated flesh. Oliver cackled maniacally at the damage he had inflicted and in the screams the dwarf let loose. Oliver reached into his satchel and grabbed a deadly poison. "You won't like this. It will keep you alive only long enough to kill you. Oh... did I mention the adrenaline I've mixed in will make sure you can't pass out while the toxin infiltrates the deep recesses of your body?" And with that, Oliver poured the contents of the bottle into the dwarf's wound. He howled in agonizing pain and Oliver enjoyed every minute of it. The deathknight began vomitting an almost corrosive, green bile and his skin turned a dark purple. If their were flowing blood in the dwarf's veins, his brain would begin to heat and eventually boil. Oliver was almost sad to not be able to see that.

Oliver felt many emotions in those moments. Joy of vengeance against those who ended his life; but also he felt... dirty. The logical side of his brain could almost not make the distinction between himself and those he despised against all else. He brushed aside those thoughts while the potions began to wear off. Suddenly Oliver felt completely drained. The hatred he had for his enemy gave him vigor, but now he could barely move. He staggered further into the forest and slumped against a felled tree. He reached into his satchel for an empty vial and some herbs he kept on him. He slowly ground them with is hands and added water to his concoction and began to shake the vial. The liquid turned into a pale blue-green and he took a long drink from it. He felt life begin to spark back into him as he drifted off into a deep slumber.

In his last waking moments, Oliver began thinking of his comrades of circumstance he had met today. The female death knight so closely protected by the human mage. The swordsman turned death knight before his very eyes. The powerful enemy Lethean who seemed almost unstoppable. The strange swirling of light and dark energies combining and retreating into him.And finally of the curious dwarf he just remembered he had left stranded. I hope he makes it out alive. He talks funny...

ZzZzzzZZzz....

((He's going to be out of commission until we begin the journey to Tyr's Hand [metagaming I know. Sorry!]. I hope someone can find him before we leave :P ))

Neyira hesitated, Ian's own blade still in her hand, the sharp edge drawing blood on the human's throat. His words had struck her, but then she shook her head. "His magic almost destroyed me, but I accepted this fact. He did it to destroy you, and the only reason why you saved me, was so that you could deliver me to Lethean, unharmed, and recieve whatever damned reward it was he was going to give you." She narrowed her eyes. "You may hate the Scourge as much as I do, but you seem happy and willing to serve the cold, bloodthirsty creature Lethean has become. Follow him down that path . . . you shall live for another day, human." She stood, carefully inspecting his katana. The blade curved upward slightly, the few runes that inscribed it glowing a soft scarlet. Interesting . . . She contemplated taking it, but she knew her fighting style would not be able to cope with the blades'.
She tossed Ian his katana, and the blade clattered as it struck pebbles and dirt. "Mark my words, though; should we ever meet again - which I hold no doubts that we will - I will not stay my hand."
As she neared Darren, she dropped the barrier of forced strength, almost collapsing with exhaustion and pain into his arms. The young wizard caught her and lowered her slowly to the ground. "That was an idiot move," he muttered, bandaging her wounds quickly. There was little he could do about the burns from his spells, though. "From both you and I."
"And yet, we both live." Neyira managed, closing her eyes. "Where is Aldean, and the rest of the party?"
Darren forced a grin. "Fighting Lethean."